I love chess history. I’ve studied every delicious drop of the lives and games of Labourdonnais, Harrwitz, Lasker, Botvinnik and all the other heroes of the past and present. It all seemed terribly romantic when I was a child, and information that brings these legendary characters back to life still thrills me. Sadly, too many players have ignored the rich chess tapestry that has shaped and colored the rules, strategies and openings that we take for granted today. Young people in particular laugh at any mention of chess before 1970, thereby depriving themselves of the complete experience that chess has to offer.

This passion for history has fueled my respect for those high priests of the chess past: Vlastimil Fiala, Ken Whyld, John Hilbert, John Donaldson, Edward Winter, etc. And though I often find myself at odds with their over-literal views of what did or didn’t happen on any specific date so many decades ago (Aren’t the old, oft-repeated stories of what might have been said or done just as valid in their own right as those items that are completely proven?), I’m still in awe at the abundance of information these explorers dig up and share with the rest of us.

It’s odd then, that though I consider Donaldson one of my closest friends, and though I’m on good terms with Hilbert (whose Herculean work ethic leaves me in a state of incredulity) and Whyld (Try sharing a beer while milking him for long forgotten chess facts!), I’ve always had an “off-kilter” feeling about Mr. Winter. This might be due to the rabid fans that take every word of his as gospel (the need of others to always be “right” affects me badly), or because he appears to be ruthless when he decides to hate someone. But pushing the stupidity of followers aside, and tossing out his personal vendettas (which really have nothing to do with me), I have to admit that the guy does great work and, without any doubt, knows his stuff.

These thoughts flitted through my mind when I got his latest book, A CHESS OMNIBUS, in the mail. Deciding that any bad feeling might be an illusory construct of my own mind (I have my share, just like everyone else.), I put my worthless opinions in the trash, sat back, and began to read.

As in his previous two volumes, KINGS, COMMONERS, AND KNAVES (click HERE to see Watson’s review of that book), and CHESS EXPLORATIONS (click HERE to see Silman’s review), we are fed a vast range of material. Stories, quotes, facts, games, and biographical tidbits sometimes educate, sometimes entertain, and sometimes bore us. Fortunately, the boring minutia that Mr. Winter (and surely others) finds so fascinating is overwhelmed by reams of extraordinary, thoughtful material.

To be honest, I was won over by the question (on page 5): “Are faster, computer generated wins in famous games important?” When a list of chess problems ensued (page 7) that stumped (or at least tortured) the likes of Morphy, Steinitz, and Capablanca, I couldn’t put the book down even though I had some pressing matters to attend to.

Eventually my wife made it clear that the final performance of Don Giovanni couldn’t be missed (perhaps it was her flashing the outrageous price of the tickets before my eyes that convinced me), but when we returned home I stepped back into my office and continued to let Winter’s book dominate my time.

I thoroughly enjoyed “Genius or mortal?” – a bit (page 30) about a public analysis between Czerniak and Fischer. Other interesting pieces were “Critical moments” (concerning a discussion of the game Fine vs. Keres, AVRO 1938), “A Capablanca ending” (page 40) where the merits of Capablanca’s handling of a Knight endgame are discussed, “Low cunning” (a Pachman tale on page 60), and … well, there is an almost endless amount of fascinating stuff here. I must say, though, that my favorite part of the book was “The Genius and the Princess” (page 211), an article by Capablanca’s wife, Olga Chagondaef (a real Russian princess). This tale of the love struck Cuban chess genius is a must read, though I’m sure that Capa himself would have remembered some of the details in a different light than his wife.

A CHESS OMNIBUS (high production value, excellent design, and great price) is one of those rare books that can keep a chess fan in rapture for weeks. If you love chess history, it’s a must buy. And if you want to dip your toes for the first time in the enormous sea that makes up our game’s past, it’s also a must buy. All in all, this is Mr. Winter’s best work; I give it a very high recommendation.

For those looking for other “time machine” books:

Fiala’s wonderful series QUARTERLY FOR CHESS HISTORY (click to see Silman’s and Watson’s reviews of this series) is simply great.

Hilbert’s epic string of chess biographies (YOUNG MARSHALL, NAPIER [click to see Silman’s review of this book], SHADY SIDE [click to see Donaldson’s review], WALTER PENN SHIPLEY [click to see Donaldson’s and Watson’s reviews]) are must buys.

Donner’s THE KING is an amazing read (click HERE to see Silman’s review of this book).

Fiala and Kalendovsky’s COMPLETE GAMES OF ALEKHINE (volumes 1-3) are riveting (click to see Silman’s and Watson’s reviews).

Moran’s A. ALEKHINE: AGONY OF A CHESS GENIUS is eye opening.

Landsberger’s THE STEINITZ PAPERS brings the legendary players’ life and personality back into focus (click to see Donaldson’s and Watson’s reviews).

Goldman’s CARL SCHLECHTER: Life and Times of the Austrian Chess Wizard is the last word on this tragic figure that had the World Championship in the palm of his hand.

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